Trapped in Russia’s grip: Ukrainian civilians held in captivity for over seven years

Refused pardon

When Russian occupation forces took him captive in 2016, Bohdan Kovalchuk was 17. From the occupied city of Yasynuvata, he was trying to reach his grandmother in what was then Dzerzhynsk (now Toretsk) to finish his studies at a vocational school and earn a Ukrainian diploma. He was detained at a checkpoint.

The occupiers accused the teenager of collaborating with the Security Service of Ukraine (SBU), blowing up cars, and targeting a “DPR police” building. In 2018, he was sentenced to 10 years in prison. He was sent to serve his “sentence” in a penal colony in Torez.

He was a child, a 17-year-old kid who dreamed of becoming a soldier… My daughter and I raised him alone, always teaching him to be honest. We told him, ‘No matter how bad things get, you must never be a traitor.’ And for that, it’s probably going to be nine years in captivity.Tetiana Hots, grandmother of a civilian hostage Bohdan Kovalchuk

Bohdan did not become a traitor. In 2019, he and four other civilian hostages from Yasynuvata were offered a pardon on the condition that they remain in occupied Donetsk Oblast, unable to leave for Ukrainian-controlled territory. Everyone agreed—except Bohdan.

“He was the only one who stayed. He said, ‘I’m not a traitor to my word.’ He always told me, ‘Grandma, I’ll be a soldier no matter what, because there needs to be order in our country.’”

Until 2019, his grandmother could visit Bohdan. “By hook or by crook,” she made her way through the frontline town of Mayorsk. But after the COVID outbreak, passage was restricted. Since then, contact with her grandson has been limited to occasional phone calls.

Tetiana knocked on every door—writing to Ukrainian government agencies and organizations to secure her grandson’s release. The response was always, “There’s no record of him anywhere.”

“How can there be ‘no record’ when, in 2016, photos of these kids were displayed on the main podium of the Verkhovna Rada with the caption ‘Our Heroes’? And yet, they’re still ‘freeing’ these ‘Our Heroes,’” she said.

Eventually, Tetiana obtained a document confirming that Bohdan Kovalchuk was being held in Colony No. 28 in Torez. She sent it to Kyiv, where officials confirmed he was in captivity. But it didn’t help secure his release.

“I wrote to the Coordination Headquarters, to the president multiple times. I took part in rallies and all those gatherings on Bankova Street. I traveled there while I still had the strength. But now, after three surgeries, it’s hard,” she said.

For a week, Bohdan shared a cell with Oleh Halaziuk, a Ukrainian journalist who also became a civilian hostage. In 2019, despite a “court” sentence, Halaziuk was exchanged and returned to Ukraine.

“Bohdan was on the top bunk, I was on the middle one… He was a decent, polite guy… Young, cheerful. He always wanted to watch music shows on TV… When I was moved to another cell, I sent him birthday greetings through a ‘slang term for the person that serves food to prisonerschow server’ and gave him a crossword puzzle book,” Halaziuk recalled.

Bohdan’s elderly great-grandfather desperately awaited his return. He constantly spoke about him, watching footage of prisoner exchanges, hoping to spot his familiar face.

Once, during an exchange broadcast, he shouted, ‘Tania, it’s Bohdan!’ And I said, ‘No, Dad, that’s not our Bohdan.’ He couldn’t bear it. He had a heart attack and passed away. He died here in Volyn. He didn’t live to see him again.Tetiana Hots, grandmother of a civilian hostage Bohdan Kovalchuk

“I just won’t live to see him”

Viktor Dzytsiuk, 29, was detained by Russians in 2017 at a checkpoint in Maryanka. He and his family were moving from Donetsk to his mother’s home in Toretsk. In Viktor’s phone, who worked as a foreman on road construction projects, they found maps of the area. This became the basis for fabricated charges of spying for the SBU.

“The maps were part of his job. Young people don’t carry paper maps anymore. All the road maps were on his phone. They twisted that into something else. And they dragged his brother into it, too,” said Viktor’s 64-year-old mother, Halyna Dzytsiuk. The brother she mentions was a police chief in Toretsk.

The occupiers tried to coerce Viktor into collaborating. His family couldn’t find him for a long time, reaching out to every authority. Halyna traveled to Donetsk to search for her son. There, she learned he was in the “Izolyatsia” concentration camp. He remained there until March 2018.

Freed prisoners said they beat Vitya severely, even used electric shocks. They tortured him—tied him up, and he hung there all day. Half-dead, they sent him to the medical unit in Donetsk’s Detention Center No. 5 in March.Halyna Dzytsiuk, mother of civilian hostage Viktor Dzytsiuk

For three years, there was no news—until a response came from the “so-called "State Security Ministry of the Donetsk People's Republic"DPR MGB,” Viktor had been “sentenced” for espionage to 16 years in prison. He was sent to Colony No. 32 in Makiyivka, where he remains.

“He has chronic psoriasis. Prisoners who were with him said Vitya’s gone completely gray. His face, head, and torso are covered in oozing sores. He gets no medical care,” Halyna shared.

She said she appealed everywhere: the Office of the Human Rights Ombudsman, NGOs, and later the Coordination Headquarters for the Treatment of Prisoners of War. Through tears, she said, “So many meetings. And my child is still there.”

Over the years, Halyna hasn’t received a single letter from her son. Until last year, Viktor could occasionally call. Then that was banned, too.

“Oh, God, God. I just won’t live to see him… While he’s there, I’m living in hell here… People are raising alarms now: ‘One year in captivity,’ or ‘Three years and a month.’ But eight and a half years—how do you even process that?”

Tortured to a heart attack

Ihor Kiryanenko was born and lived in Donetsk, where he ran a medical business. When the occupation began, he closed his private practice but stayed in the city to care for his sick mother and help his disabled brother.

“He always had a strong civic stance,” said his colleague, Regina Kolesnikova. It was for this stance that he was detained in 2018.

At first, he was held in “Izolyatsia.” They tortured him with electric shocks, pulled out his teeth, and beat his kidneys. After this torture, he suffered a severe heart attack… With broken fingers, they forced him to sign papers claiming he ‘accidentally fell off a step,’ explaining his condition.Regina Kolesnikova, colleague of civilian hostage Ihor Kiryanenko

He was held in Detention Center No. 5 in occupied Donetsk, a facility previously used for inmates with respiratory tuberculosis. After a “trial” that sentenced him to 12 years for “espionage,” he was transferred to Colony No. 32 in Makiyivka, where he remains.

His colleague says Ihor is slowly dying. He’s emaciated—“a skeleton covered in skin.” The lower part of his skull is severely deformed because his jaws shifted after “they ripped out all his teeth with pliers during torture.”

Before, a relative could call him and occasionally see him through glass. Now, even that is gone.

The doctor contacts his family rarely—once every month or month and a half, and only if he’s not being punished. Every three months, relatives can send him a 20-kilogram package.

“Ihor has a wife, two sons, and two granddaughters. They’re all waiting for him to come back from captivity. His mother, sadly, didn’t live to see her son. She died a few years ago from a stroke. She waited for him in Donetsk but never saw him free,” Kolesnikova said.

"There is no political will"

According to the Media Initiative for Human Rights, citing data from the Security Service of Ukraine, as of early 2022, 301 civilian hostages were held in Russian captivity.

Since the full-scale war began, statistics are murkier—the number of civilian hostages has surged, and verifying information about individual releases is often impossible.

In total, the MIHR knows of approximately 2,200–2,300 civilians held by Russia since 2014. This includes civilians taken hostage after the full-scale invasion and those detained in Crimea.

“Are these numbers final? Hardly. The war continues, and so do the detentions. These territories are becoming more closed off, making it harder to get information. People are afraid to report the detention or disappearance of their loved ones to human rights organizations or state authorities,” Tetiana Katrychenko, executive director of the Media Initiative for Human Rights, told hromadske.

Returning civilians is the hardest because they cannot simply be exchanged for occupiers, and Ukraine does not detain Russian civilians. For Russia, which violates the Geneva Conventions on the protection of civilians, releasing them would mean admitting it illegally held them on its or occupied territory.

It’s hard to discern any logic in why Russia holds them. For civilians before 2022—there’s no logic at all. Some are even transferred to Rostov. Why do they need this? Honestly, it’s very hard to understand.Tetiana Katrychenko, Executive Director of the Media Initiative for Human Rights

Over the past two years, Russia has released fewer than 200 civilian hostages. They are sometimes included in prisoner-of-war exchanges, mainly women like Human rights activist who was held in Russian captivity for 3 years and 13 days. After her release, she began to take care of women who had experienced sexual violence during the war.Liudmyla Huseinova and A mother of two who was held in Russian captivity for 18 months.Yulia Dvornichenko. Katrychenko could not recall any examples of men being released through exchanges.

Dozens of men have returned to Ukraine only after their sentences in Russia expired. In some cases, successful appeals in court made a difference.

“Is there a chance for their return? Since [Russia] has no grounds to hold them, there’s also no legal mechanism for their release,” the expert explained.

Thus, freeing civilians is a “purely political process.” The state must negotiate their return with the help of third countries.

Is there political will for this? Clearly, there isn’t. If there were, more active negotiations would be happening. But negotiations are practically nonexistent now. Russia also has an advantage in the number of people captured during its armed aggression and tries to impose its own rules.Tetiana Katrychenko, Executive Director of the Media Initiative for Human Rights

In spring 2024, a working group was established under the Coordination Headquarters to address the release of civilian hostages. It is led by Oleksandr Kononenko from the Office of the Human Rights Ombudsman. The group’s first tasks were to identify the locations and conditions of detained Ukrainians.

hromadske asked the Coordination Headquarters and the Main Intelligence Directorate of the Ministry of Defense whether a strategy for returning civilian hostages has been developed and how exchange lists are formed. Neither responded to the inquiries.

“I’ve appealed everywhere, to anyone I could and couldn’t. Everyone says Russia isn’t releasing them. I just don’t know what to do. Surely, some mechanism can be developed to bring them back. There aren’t that many of them,” said Halyna Dzytsiuk, mother of a civilian hostage. “Something has to be done. They’re just dying there.”